


things are never easy.

by brokenheartsclub



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: (Thanks to Speech Therapy), (The fluff is painful because it's sad fluff), Basically Bill is Emo to the Extremeo and Richie appears out of the blue!, Bill doesn't have a Stutter, Fluff, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 17:55:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenheartsclub/pseuds/brokenheartsclub
Summary: "Oh, baby." Bill's heard that tone many, many times before. It's the tone Richie uses when Bill's overreacting about tedious things, trying to draw him back to Richie's comforts. Bill both hates and loves that tone because it means something different now than it did weeks ago."Don't-" Bill attempts to wiggle out of Richie's traps fail as the words burn at the tip of his tongue and sizzle out like Bill's courage. He just wants Richie to wrap his arms around him and he's so, so tired. Exhaustion tugs at every logical thought he has that's yelling at him to run and just lets him sink into the state of relaxation that Richie used to bring him to.-(especially when you leave me.)Bill and Richie break up and Bill's not coping with it all too well.





	things are never easy.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is unbeta'd and a result of me spiralling at four in the morning with yet another all-nighter. but alas, enjoy and comment/leave kudos!

Bill's bed is empty. 

He stares at it with a sense of distaste, gnawing on his lower lip as he stared down at it blankly. It was nearing three in the morning, his body aching with exhaustion. He had been procrastinating sleeping but with the numbing feeling settling in his legs, he decided that sleep was necessary. His body feels as if it's being weighed down, despite him only wearing a pair of light boxer briefs.

It's too empty for him. 

He crawls into it, eyes burning with tears as a lump swells at the base of his throat. He tries not to let the negative thoughts spill into his thoughts but they pool around the edges and finally cave through the wall. A choked sob escapes through his lips as he pulls the soft blanket around his chest. Sitting on the edge of his mattress is a small plush animal that Bill remembers getting at an amusement park. He pushes it over onto the floor with a hasty flick, not wanting any reminders of  _him_ near him.

He can't help but feel his bed is too empty to fall asleep, the accompanying four winter blankets that he has curled around him not enough to create an illusion of comfort. He buries his face into the blanket and stares at the wall across him, faintly illuminated by his small nightlight. He doesn't know how long he's lying there, wrapped in thick blankets that threaten to overheat him with the mugginess of the summer night air, but it feels like an eternity. Being held and talked to sleep almost every night has altered his sense of comfort and now, living without it, Bill can't help but to feel almost  _useless_.

A loud knock on his bedroom window makes him jolt upwards, disrupting his feigned sleep. He moves over to the window with an exhausted stagger, his legs barely able to hold up his weight anymore. Bill pushes the curtain over to the side, being able to see the source of the knock. He folds his arms over his bare chest as he sees who is standing in the window - the last person he wants to see right now. 

Richie. 

"W-Why are you here?" Bill asks quietly as soon as he opens the window. His  _friend_ shifts his footing, shrugging nonchalantly. He doesn't look any different since Bill had last seen him a week ago. His hair was combed back underneath a beanie, curls reaching out from beneath and a cigarette was tucked behind his ear. His face looks slim and healthy as if a single thing in his life hadn't changed. His outfit was put together in the most Richie way possible, making Bill laugh bitterly.  _Real rich_ , Bill thinks to himself.  _Of course, he would be fine_. 

Richie picks the cigarette off from behind his ear and holds it out to Bill who stares at it blankly, knowing he had smoked way too much since he last seen Richie. He was lucky if a pack survived a day, let alone a week. Richie shrugs once again before clearing his throat, shoving the cigarette back behind his ear. 

"Can I come in?" Bill winces before glancing over at his alarm clock sitting on the floor by his bed, mocking Richie by shrugging and making a displeased noise. It read a red  _5:17 AM,_ far too early for Bill to be awake and far too late for him go to sleep.

"It's late. Dad's going to be getting up for work anytime soon." Bill leans against the wall by the window, pursing his lips as to not let his facade fall. Truth be told, his mind is screaming at him to jump into Richie's arms and just melt all over the younger boy. But, he knew that it was counter-productive. Especially when they were in the sticky situation that they were. 

"That's never stopped you before." Bill chuckled coldly before stepping out of the way, letting Richie step through the window. It was always funny watching Richie attempt to climb through his window, but it wasn't funny anymore. It was smaller - more suitable for Stan to crawl through - and it sat at the foot of Bill's bed just a mere two feet above the ground. When Richie successfully makes it in, he shoots Bill a toothy grin before flopping down on the redhead's bed. 

"Come, lay down." 

"This isn't-"

"Just shut up and lay down," Richie counters before Bill can get far into his own head.  Bill closes his window before looking back down at Richie, a sad smile hinting at his lips. Richie was on the side that he always laid on whenever he would come over before - the left side. Richie once said it was to keep Bill from rolling off the bed because the boy would often injure himself when his nightmares were prevalent by simply rolling off. Bill licks at his lips before crawling back into his bed, his bare skin feeling suddenly cold. He pulls one of the blankets over him and as he attempts to pull a second one over him, Richie reaches over and stops him from doing so. 

"You're fidgeting," Richie notes and Bill can't help to still. Richie had always been the type to point out things about Bill that he never intentionally did. Bill's cheeks a dark red as he stammers, attempting to explain himself but Richie cuts him off once again, with a soft chuckle. "Hey, calm down. Just breathe; you're okay." 

"M'sorry," Bill breathes as he shivers, a cold feeling making its way down his spine. He tucks the blanket around his face, letting it cover the tip of his nose and everything below. Richie rolled to his side to face him and propped himself up onto his elbow while Bill was fidgeting but when Bill looks at him with wide eyes, Richie is just staring back with a soft smile.

"You're cute." Bill's fidgeting stills once again as he looks over at Richie with wide eyes, mouth hanging open below the blanket. Richie reaches over and runs a hand through Bill's hair, stopping at the ends of his curls to tug on it slightly. Bill clamps his mouth shut, his teeth colliding with his lower lip as he tries to not relax beneath Richie's touch. It was - and still is - one of Bill's  _biggest_ weaknesses and the easiest way to get him to calm down. Richie repeats the motion a couple times until he sees the familiar glaze of contentment hovering over Bill's deep blue eyes, combined with the exhaustion of not sleeping for a couple days. 

"I've missed you, baby." The words hit  _hard_. Bill makes a guttural noise that sounds like a combination of choking and sobbing, and Richie winces just ever slightly. Bill swears it happens but he isn't quite sure, judging from the collected look on Richie's face. They had broken up just weeks before and Bill was a sucker for hearing about the idea of Richie still loving him.

"I've missed you, too." Bill's hands shake to where his grip on the blanket is held as he tries to talk himself out of crying. He doesn't know why he wants to cry right here, right now but the way Richie is looking at him makes him want to curl up and die right on the spot. 

"Oh,  _baby_." Bill's heard that tone many, many times before.  It's the tone Richie uses when Bill's overreacting about tedious things, trying to draw him back to Richie's comforts. Bill both hates and loves that tone because it means something different now than it did weeks ago. 

"Don't-" Bill attempts to wiggle out of Richie's traps fail as the words burn at the tip of his tongue and sizzle out like Bill's courage. He just wants Richie to wrap his arms around him and he's so,  _so_ tired. Exhaustion tugs at every logical thought he has that's yelling at him to run and just lets him sink into the state of relaxation that Richie used to bring him to. 

"Can I kiss you?" The words cut through the silence the same way they cut through the air in Bill's lungs - hard and dangerous. Bill tries to talk himself out of it mentally but his mouth betrays him as a shaky " _Please_ " slips out, even quieter than Richie's own words. The blanket is quickly pushed away from Bill's face and one of Richie's hands is on his cheek almost immediately. 

The kiss is far too gentle to feel like their relationship. Their relationship was always consistent with messy kisses filled with desperation and admiration, one of the boys far too happy to take the time to appreciate what was occurring. And looking back, Bill regrets not ever taking the time to appreciate the love and happiness that Richie used to give him. But in this moment, it feels like something is repaired - as if they'll be okay sooner or later.

Richie's hand moves back to Bill's head and tilts it upwards, making a soft moan slip through Bill's mouth. The kiss never moves past sweet and gentle, Bill's hands itching to fit somewhere. Richie pulls away with a pleased grin, eyes still closed and hand still at the back of Bill's neck. He was playing with the small strands that curled at the base of Bill's neck, making Bill smile back with contentment. 

"I love you," Richie whispers, moving his hand to cup Bill's cheek once again. His hand is warm and his thumb traces along the array of freckles covering Bill's cheek and Bill can't help to smile in reply. His cheeks flare a light pink and Richie leans forward to press a soft kiss to the other cheek, making Bill blush even harder in response. The fact that they are split up seemed to slip past Bill's thoughts and all he really cared about was the fact that Richie was holding him once again. 

"I love you, too, Rich." The four words are the fatal gunshot that fires into Bill's heart. He doesn't register it now but he knows it's  _exactly_ what Richie wanted from him - an admission of the fact he has yet to move on. Richie smiles at him softly afterwards and rests his head against Bill's. 

"You need to sleep, baby. C'mon, turn around and we'll cuddle." Bill's reaction is immediate as he twirls around, the blankets wrapping uncomfortably as he wiggles to get into a position where Richie can cuddle him effectively. 

"So do you." Bill wanes, closing his eyes and letting Richie handle his way around his bed. He feels the blankets being tugged over Richie's body as well and nothing prepares him for the overwhelming comfort that occurs when Richie's chest is pressed against his back. The feeling of the colourful windbreaker against Bill's bare back feels a bit weird but it also feels comforting -  _because it's Richie._ Richie slides his hand down to rest on Bill's stomach, fingers curled and rubbing along the seam of Bill's boxers. He buries his face into Bill's shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss to the base of the redhead's neck, causing him to emit a small squeak. 

"Just," Richie murmured quietly, "go to sleep, Billy. You need to sleep." A small whine of protest slips from the other boy's lips but the sound of footsteps above them silenced both of them from speaking. Bill's statement from earlier revisits both of their thoughts - ' _Dad's going to be getting up for work anytime soon_.' Richie begins to run his hand along Bill's side, leaving gentle kisses along the base of his neck until he feels Bill completely relax into the mattress. He smiles softly before letting himself relax alongside the boy. 

When Bill wakes up the next day, his bed is empty. He feels horrible a nagging feeling eating away inside of his stomach. A hollow feeling surrounds his chest and he feels just as empty as his bed. He sits up and sulks down, his fingers immediately fiddling with the blanket wrapped around his waist. His mother stands in his doorway with her arms folded and smiles at him sympathetically when he smiles at her sadly. 

"He left." Bill runs a hand through his hair and nods sadly, drawing in a deep sigh. He bites down on the flaking skin around his fingernails, wondering if he dreamt Richie ever caring about him.  

"He's good at that." Bill's mum winces at his words before pointing up the stairs. She steps into the room and ruffles her son's curly hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He lets his eyes flutter shut as she lets go of his hair and slowly heads back into the hallway, studying her son's broken body expression.

"I have waffles - chocolate chip ones - upstairs for you, baby. You should eat soon." Bill nods and shoots a quick thank you in her direction before sinking back into the bed. He lays back down and notes how cold he feels in a bed that's barely big enough for him. He rolls over and stares at the wall blankly before he notices something sitting on the edge of his bed. 

That same plush that Richie once won him at an amusement park, sitting rightfully on the pillow that Richie always used, holding a box of cigarettes - Bill's favourite.


End file.
